


Elation

by Million_Moments



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Alternate Universe, England (Country), F/M, Humor, Romance, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Moping. Richard and Camille aren't quite ready to face their issues yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I realised after publishing “Moping” that I spent ages describing all the reasons and issues that caused Richard and Camille to separately decide not to pursue a relationship before Richard left Saint Marie. And then I never addressed the fact all of those things were still true at the end of ‘Moping’. So I decided a sequel was in order. Warning for sexual themes and all that jazz. I thought I would post this in two parts.

Their first time together was a bit like something from a Mills & Boon novel, except with the sort of awkwardness that always seems to be missing from romance stories. In the stories, nobody ever has to run out to the corner store when they realise they have no condoms. The man never reduces his partner to fits of giggles after he spends a good ten minutes trying to get a bra off, only to realise the bloody thing undoes at the front. And the woman never has to clear her throat and gently request her lover move off her because she is getting a bit squished, after he collapses bodily on top of her.

And yet Richard would still call the entire experience perfect.

 

* * *

 

 

When Richard woke, it was mid-afternoon. Apart from the necessary trip to the corner store, they hadn’t really wasted any time and had ended up straight in bed. They’d then spent an hour trying to stay awake, sleepily discussing inconsequential things before making love again and then falling asleep. Camille was practically comatose next to him, considering she probably had jet lag she had a valid excuse, but he probably shouldn’t let her sleep much longer or she would have no chance of getting her body clock aligned to UK time. He was also starving hungry, it being well past lunch time.

With a certain level of regret, he shook her gently. She mumbled something and turned over, clearly not keen to get up just yet. Richard told himself he was being cruel to be kind and reached out to shake her again.

“Camille,” he said gently. “Come on, we can’t sleep all day.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” she muttered, face half buried in the pillow. “I thought we’d have some more sex, but we could sleep a bit more now.”

“You’ll end up awake all night if you sleep now,” he told her, trying to sound firm but failing because he couldn’t stop smiling.

“I am sure we can find a way to fill the time.” She rolled back towards him, and he knew she was waking up now – though reluctantly.

He smiled at her, reaching out to touch her face without really thinking about the action. “I should take you out for something to eat. There are loads of nice places on the high street.”

“If we went out, we’d have to get dressed and though I would enjoy undressing you again it doesn’t seem like the most efficient way to proceed. Are you very hungry now?” His stomach answered by growling loudly, causing Camille to giggle. “Well I guess my _other_ appetite will have to wait to be satisfied until after we’ve eaten. What have you got in the house to eat?”

Richard had to think about this. He’d like to be able to say he had the ingredients to whip up something impressive, but the truth was he normally kept the supplies to make pretty simple stuff. This meant he would actually cook when he got home rather than order take away all the time.

“Um, I could make a couple of jacket potatoes?” He offered lamely. He was pretty certain there was some cheese and maybe even some beans as well.

“A what potato?” Camille asked, looking confused.

“A jacket potato,” he repeated, though this did not seem to be enough to enlighten her. “You know, a potato, which you cook in the oven.”

“Oh a baked potato, why didn’t you say so?”

“I did! Everyone calls them jacket potatoes,” he huffed, annoyed.

“Oh come on now,” she wielded. “Let’s not let our first fight be about _potatoes_!”

“I hardly think it would be our first fight,” he told her, and she smiled in response.

“Perhaps not.”

 

* * *

 

 

At the station, most officers didn’t actually take advantage of their boss’ absence and carried on with their jobs. Carter, however, kept pausing to look at Brookes as if she intended to tell him something, but would then change her mind. Brookes didn’t fail to notice this behaviour and eventually huffed with annoyance and asked, “What is it?”

“The bank holiday weekend starts tomorrow,” she told him, a fact he knew. He waited her out. “I think we should let them have the cottage.”

“WHAT?” Brookes half shouted, loud enough to get the attention of some other officers. He lowered his voice to continue, “But I am looking forward to it, and I thought you were as well!”

“Well, I was, until I realised you actually wanted us to leave the place and go on hikes, and not spend the entire weekend in bed.”

“You don’t want to go hiking? You seemed happy, enthusiastic even when I took you through the various routes.”

“Well I knew _you_ were enthusiastic,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to go hiking as much as I want to spend the weekend in bed. With you”

“We could do that anywhere,” he pointed out, trying to control his frustration.

Carter grinned, “Exactly. So let’s stay at my place, stay in bed, and let them have the cottage booking. They won’t get anywhere else for a Bank Holiday, not at this short notice.”

Brookes resisted the urge to slap the table, he was really disappointed, though the weekend in bed was still quite tempting. He had one last play, “DCI Poole is on duty this weekend, so he can’t go away anyway!”

“Yes, yes I know…” She said, thinking it over. “Singh!” She called out across the bullpen, gaining the attention of the DI. “What you doing this weekend?”

“Sadly I am being forced to visit with the future in-laws. Like I won’t get enough visits after we are married, we apparently have to get some practise visits in before.”

“And how would your fiancé feel if you were suddenly forced into working a shift? Would she be angry enough to call off the wedding?” Carter asked, deadly serious.

“No, she is quite understanding, Doctor you know…You want me to cover for DCI Poole? Bloody hell Brookes is right about you, right little matchmaker. Well personally if he’ll agree to ditch the shift I’ll agree to work it, anything to get out of that visit!” She gave Singh her best smile, and then turned to Brookes looking quite frankly triumphant.

“Fine,” he huffed. “They can have the bloody cottage.”

 

* * *

“What will you do with yourself?” Richard asked Camille the next morning, she was still naked underneath the sheets in bed, seemingly content not to move for the moment. This was a distraction so intense he hadn’t managed to put his tie on, despite attempting to do so for at least 10 minutes.

“Well since you _insist_ on going to work, I guess I’ll entertain myself. Probably go sightseeing,” she shifted, exposing more of her body, and causing him to fail at his tie knotting attempt once again. “Want me to help with that?” She asked innocently, as if she had no clue as to why he was suddenly all fingers and thumbs.

“I doubt you would help,” he told her dryly.

“Come on now Richard, would I make you late for work?”

“Yes,” he said flatly, finally succeeding in putting his tie on. “Call me if you get lost or anything.”

She gave a small laugh, “I lived in Paris, and the Underground can’t be any more complicated than the Metro.”

“I’m sorry I have to go to work.” It was about the fifth time he’d apologised since the alarm first went off. Camille kept assuring him it was ok, and that it was her fault for not giving him any notice of her arrival. She gave him a patient sort of smile, and he leaned down to give her a kiss goodbye. Camille put a hand on the back of his neck and urged him closer, and he almost forgot for a moment he was supposed to be going somewhere.

Richard decided the important thing was that he would be going to work, he could probably afford to be late just this once…

 

* * *

 

 

Richard did his best to try to sneak into work, but he knew he was never going to get away with it. “Sir!” Carter called out, he paused at her desk and she gave him a quick glance up and down. “Camille distract you a little this morning?” She asked with a cheeky grin.

This question concerned him, he’d checked carefully in the mirror before leaving and there was no lipstick or (God forbid) love bites on show. “What makes you say that?”

“Your lack of tie, Sir,” Carter said. He looked down and damn it, she was right, he had never put it back on after Camille expertly removed what had taken him so long to tie properly.

“Well I suppose I can get away with it for one day,” he said with a small sigh, and thus admitting Carter had been right. She was frowning at him. “What now?”

“The Superintendent is coming in forty minutes Sir, it’s what I called you over to say.” Richard instantly started to panic, trying to calculate if he could make it to a shop in time to by a new one. He _could_ make it home, but the risk of delay by Camille was too high. Carter suddenly smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Chief Inspector, you can have Brookes’ spare tie! He always has a spare one in case he spills yoghurt on it, which he does quite often.”

Richard turned to Brookes, who shifted in his seat uncomfortably before nodding to confirm that was the case. “I always wondered why you sometimes changed tie half way through the day, I thought it was an affectation or something.”

Brookes opened his bottom desk draw and withdrew a tie, which he handed over to Richard. “Thanks, I’ll get it back to you at the end of the day.” He went off towards his office, only to find Carter was still trailing after him. “What does the Superintendent want anyway?” He asked, assuming she had further information she wanted to pass on.

“Oh, budgets.” He cringed at the word, a reminder of the fact he and Camille would eventually need to have a long and difficult conversation about their future. “I know, not the most exciting topic,” Carter said, misinterpreting his look. “So it’s the bank holiday this weekend, Sir,” Carter continued, confusing him.

“Yes,” he said, suddenly wary. Had he gotten the shifts muddled up? He’d signed up to work himself to give as many people time off as possible.

“And you have the weekend off, Sir.” Now he was _really_ confused.

“No I –“

“Yes you do,” Carter cut him off giving him a significant look. “DI Singh is the senior officer this weekend.”

He instantly understood that she had been meddling again, and wondered if she had powers over every male officer in this station. He noticed that Singh was listening in, and shot the Inspector a questioning look.

“That’s right, Sir, such a shame I won’t be able to see the in-laws.” He gave a mock-dramatic sigh, and Richard knew the man was not exactly feeling hard done by.

“Right, yes,” he said, unable to keep the smile off his face. “I guess I do indeed have the weekend off.” Richard had no idea how he would repay Carter for all her very welcome interferences. “I wonder if I can get a caravan in Clacton…”

Carter looked at him, wide eyed and concerned, “A caravan, Sir?”

“Yes, you see I promised Camille if she ever came to the UK I would take her to stay in a caravan in Clacton for the weekend,” he explained.

“A caravan, Sir?” She repeated. He didn’t quite see what she was getting at. She frowned, and then said with a certain amount of hesitancy, “Well, um, it isn’t, um, exactly _romantic_.” 

Now he thought about it, Richard could hardly deny she was right. Camille hadn’t seemed that enthusiastic all the months ago when he had first mentioned it either. He got the impression Carter was probably trying to give him a hint: he should _not_ be taking Camille to Clacton. “Perhaps I could think of somewhere else…”

Carter brightened, “How about a nice cottage in the Lake District, in a great location and miles from anywhere. The place is gorgeous, trust me.” She held out an envelope which he took and peered inside, it contained a map and a booking for a cottage. It took Richard a moment to realise she had _literally_ planned the whole trip for him. Richard could get used to having his life managed in this way, though he did think there was a possibility that if she was given the chance Carter might arrange his wedding without him even realising.

“Any other tips?” He asked, knowing she wouldn’t be shy in offering advice.

She gave him a small smile, “Actually…”


	2. Chapter 2

The first bit of advice Cater gave Richard made him a little uncomfortable. She insisted it wasn’t lying, more omitting the truth, but he wasn’t so sure. After much haranguing though he finally conceded to do things her way. Anything for a quiet life. She managed to get about 7 seconds into her second piece of advice before Richard twigged on to what she was talking about and, highly embarrassed, sent her out of his office directly. The last thing he needed was to look flustered when the Detective Superintendent was on the way. Carter shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder as she walked away and he narrowed his eyes at her – though girl was outright insubordinate sometimes!

 

* * *

 

 

Brookes held out until lunchtime, which he and Carter took perched on a low wall outside in order to make the most of the sunshine, before asking, “What on earth did you say to the Chief Inspector?”

“I provided him with some advice,” Carter said, choosing to be deliberately vague – much to Brookes’ annoyance. He stared her down and she offered, “You know, on his love life!”

“Carter!” Brookes said on a sigh. In reality, he shouldn’t have expected anything less embarrassing. “Is the poor man going to be able to look you in the face in the future?”

“Actually he cut me off pretty early on certain topics so probably, yes,” she admitted. Brookes removed his yoghurt and she reached forward and snatched it from his grasp. “You should let me eat that, you haven’t got a spare tie, remember?”

Brookes was pretty certain her stealing his yoghurt had less to do with her wanting to save him from a stained tie and far more to do with her just wanting his yoghurt. He let her get away with it though because if he insisted on taking the yoghurt back, it would then be inevitable that he spilt it on himself in some dramatic fashion. “Do you think they’ll get on okay?” He asked eventually.

“I know they’ll be just fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

“How far _is_ it to Clacton?” Camille asked as she climbed into the passenger seat at a ridiculous hour of the morning. She really wasn’t sure why they had to leave this early, it hadn’t looked _that_ far on the road map. “My ability to judge distances is probably skewed from living on a small island.”

Richard seemed to hesitate before answering, and she wondered if he actually knew the way there. Well if they got into trouble she could always try using the GPS on her phone. “We should be there just after lunch,” Richard said eventually. “Best to leave early and avoiding the rush though!”

“Yes, all those Brits desperate for their weekend in a caravan,” she said, sarcasm evident. She winced, she had vowed not to show her disdain for the idea because for Richard it probably counted as romantic, and at least she would be spending the weekend with him. That was what appealed, not the caravan. Richard didn’t seem to have noticed, thankfully, he looked a little nervous though. Perhaps he was worried about being in a small space with her for three days. “I wouldn’t have thought it would take that long,” she said.

“Well, road works,” he said vaguely. “Perhaps you should just go to sleep, I’ll wake you when we get there.”

That idea did sound quite appealing actually, but it didn’t seem very nice, “Won’t you get bored driving?”

“I’ll be fine!” He said. “I’m quite used to driving by myself.

Well, Camille thought, if he was offering then it was an offer she would take.

 

* * *

 

 

Every time she woke they seemed to be on some anonymous motorway or dual carriage way. Finally, she woke and felt like she was fully awake now. Looking out of the window though she spotted a sign that puzzled her. “Richard are we following signs to ‘The North’” she asked, starling him a little.

“I thought you were sleeping?” He said.

“I was, for…” she checked her phone. “3 hours. I’m no longer tired.”

“Oh right, want to put something on the radio?”

“You didn’t answer my question about the north,” she pointed out, starting to feel a little bit suspicious.

“Clacton _is_ north of London,” Richard said.

“I looked at the map, it isn’t near Manchester!” Camille said indicating the sign they were currently passing. Dear God, was he _that_ bad at navigating?

“Oh, you are thinking of Clacton- _on-sea,_ ” Richard said. “There is another Clacton further north. That is the one we are going to.”

This threw her slightly, she had assumed they would be going to the first Clacton that had come up when she had borrowed his laptop to Google it (being unwilling to use her own phone due to horrendous data charges abroad). It seemed to fit the picture Richard had painted her before. It hadn’t occurred to her the UK could be home to two places called Clacton, and she said as much.

“Oh it’s surprisingly common,” he said brightly. “There are three St Ives and seven Newcastles in the UK. I guess we aren’t terribly original with place names.” If there really were seven places called Newcastle in the UK, that seemed likely. Camille vowed to check that fact later.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard was surprised he managed to convince her they were on the way to Clacton (albeit, a very different Clacton that though north of Clacton-on-Sea, was not _this_ far north) right until the moment they pulled into the driveway of the cottage. It was, as Carter had promised him, stupidly picturesque. All climbing roses, slate tiled roof and stone walls. He sort of expected an excited Labrador to come bounding round the corner where he had been informed there was a massive and well maintained garden. Camille stared at the cottage for a few moment before turning to him, smiling. “We are staying _here_?” she asked brightly.

“Yes,” he told her, returning the smile. “I mean, you didn’t really think I would make you stay in a _caravan_ did you? What sort of romantic weekend away would that be?” Carter had been very insistent he act as if this whole trip had been his idea. Something he still felt uncomfortable with, even though Camille was looking terribly pleased with him right now. Or perhaps it was _because_ Camille seemed so pleased with him when he perhaps didn’t deserve it.

“So, where _are_ we?” She asked as she climbed out of a car, turning full circle to enjoy the view.

“The Lake District, it’s a good location actually – we aren’t far from a few of the nice lakes for a gentle stroll and there are even some peaks if you fancy a hike or something.”

“Well, I am in the mood for something a little energetic,” Richard’s heart sank, he didn’t really feel like climbing a peak after driving all this way. “But my activities don’t involve leaving the cottage.”

Oh, that he _could_ manage.

 

* * *

 

 

On Sunday evening, after they had finished most of a bottle of wine outside in the garden, Richard said, “Shouldn’t we go out tomorrow morning before we have to set off? Actually look at the, well, lakes or something?” The fact of the matter was, apart from a run down to a local town to get additional food and wine, they hadn’t really left the vicinity of the cottage. Their chosen activities hadn’t required them to.

Camille responded to his question with a short laugh, “Oh it’s not like we spent _all_ our time in the cottage. We ate out in the garden didn’t we? And the views are very nice, you can see plenty from here.” Richard raised an eyebrow, it was a nice view – but this was the Lake District and they hadn’t seen a single lake. Camille gave a small shake of her head and conceded, “Well I suppose we could climb a peak if you really wanted to.”

“Not really,” Richard quickly admitted, drawing another smile from her. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay with the fact we did come all this way just to stay in!”

“I’m okay with it!” Camille reassured him. “Though there is something I would like…”

“Yes?”

“Can we build a fire inside?” She asked eagerly.

Richard knew that, despite the glorious late spring sunshine they were enjoying, it was still considerably cooler in the UK than compared to Saint Marie. He hadn’t imagine that Camille might actually be cold, she certainly hadn’t make any indication of that being the case before now. She was sitting in the garden now in just a strappy top, with no signs of shivering, so perhaps it wasn’t for reasons of heating she wanted a fire.

“You’re not cold, are you?” he asked. “Nobody really builds a fire in May in the UK but I suppose it would be warmer on Saint Marie. I’m really not sure they’ll be any logs or coal but I can have a look.”

“Oh I’m not cold, I just thought a fire would be nice,” she admitted with a small shrug.

Richard puzzled over this for a moment, and then realised where Camille’s desire might be originating, “Do you just want to make love in front of a fire?”

Camille looked a little embarrassed, and he knew he had guessed correctly. “You think it’s silly, don’t you? You know the whole cottage thing is so romantic and I quite liked the idea of a fire and some more wine…”

Richard wanted to add it would be better if it was actually winter, with a rain storm that they had just been caught in, but then he might be forced to admit he had spent hours contemplating that sort of cliché fantasy in the past. Instead he got up and went to what he thought to be the coal bunker and had a look inside. There was a couple of scuttles worth in there, but no sign of any wood anywhere.

“Well I could set light to an old newspaper,” he call out to her jokingly. He was rewarded with a giggle for his efforts and she rose from the picnic table and came to join him.

“Maybe we can just use our imagination,” she said suggestively.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ve done well, you know,” Camille said to him whilst he was still trying to catch his breath. Richard was suddenly worried that meant he hadn’t performed up to scratch on all the previous occasions, even though she had seemed to enjoy those as much as she had this time, but then Camille continued and he realised he had to wrong end of the stick. “This is _much_ better than a caravan in Clacton. It’s so beautiful here and very romantic. I didn’t really know you had it in you!”

He frowned, she was praising him for showing ingenuity, and he was once again reminded that he didn’t really deserve it. If it was up to him, they would be in a caravan right now, fed up with fish and chips and having been attacked by sea gulls at least six times. Despite the advice Carter had given him, her insistence that he need not acknowledge her interference, he knew guilt was about to get the better of him.

“Actually, though I was going to take you away, the whole idea to come up here was Carter’s,” he admitted. Camille, who had been tracing shapes with her fingertips on his chest that caused him all sorts of delightful sensations, paused in that activity. “I’m afraid if she hadn’t intervened we would be in a caravan now. I’m sorry to, um, disappoint you.”

“Oh I’m not disappointed in you!” She said hurriedly, sitting up a little so she could look him in the face. “A little surprised by the admission, but the fact you took her advice is very impressive. Nice to know you can be trained,” she teased him, before settling back down against him.

“Do you know what’s silly?” He said.

“What?”

“I still really want to take you to Clacton, even though I know you were much happier with this choice,” he confessed. Something about having Camille’s warmth pressed against him, the feeling of her fingertips that had returned to their gentle explorations, made him feel a little bolder than usual, and comfortable in explaining his admission further. “I don’t know, I just love the idea of being with you, somebody so vivacious and beautiful and foreign - but not in a bad way – somewhere so English and that formed such a key part of my past. Take you, who makes me so happy, to a place I was always happy. I wanted to show you it, you know, the beaches packed full of sunburnt families, the pier full of arcades, being harassed by sea gulls on the prom. And yes, the caravan would be rather small and possibly drafty, but that just means you have to cuddle closer in the bed…” He trailed off, aware he may have been rambling.

Camille shifted and gave him an intent look that made his stomach do an odd sort of flippy thing. “Can we leave now?” She asked, surprising him.

“What?”

“Can we go to Clacton now?” She said, trying to be clearly but Richard was still just as confused. “You have succeeded in making Clacton sound incredibly romantic and there is nothing I want more than to go there with you and cuddle up in a tiny bed in a drafty caravan.”

Oh great, so now it turns out he would have been better off following his original plan. It didn’t bother him that much, he was too pleased that Camille actually wanted to spend more time with him. “Camille, it is hours away and we have to go back to London tomorrow.”

“So that’s a no?”

“That’s a no,” he confirmed. “But we could maybe go another time?”

“We will _definitely_ go another time.”

 

* * *

 

Richard rather wished he was the sort of man who could chuck in all responsibility in order to run off in the pursuit of love. But he wasn’t, he knew he had to return to work and that the moment when he and Camille had to face the issues they had been putting off was rapidly approaching. With a certain level of reluctance, he chucked his bag into the boot of the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. As she climbed in the car beside him Camille said, really rather nonchalantly, “I think I’ll move to the UK.”

Richard had just started the car, but her proclamation meant he turned the key back into the off position. “I’m sorry?” he asked, thinking perhaps his own desperate desires had caused him to hallucinate her statement.

“I said I think I’ll come live in the UK. London, specifically, hopefully a certain person I know won’t mind me moving in.” Nope, he hadn’t imagined it.

“But, Camille, what about your career? You know The Met isn’t hiring at the moment?” Part of Richard wondered why the hell he was giving her reasons to change her mind, but he would hate the idea she would give up something she loved because of him.

“Oh I know. But I did briefly connect my phone to the Wi-Fi and I appear to have seven emails from a certain member of your CID providing me with details of translator jobs. Apparently both The Met, Thames Valley and the UK Border Agency are all after French translators, I’m sure I could get one of the positions,” she explained. “I’d still be involved in police work, just as a civilian, and then if they do start hiring again I think I’d be in a good position.”

“Hmmm…” Richard said thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I know you, every week you’ll come home and tell me about how you are _sure_ the detectives are taking the entirely wrong direction in the case but they refuse to listen to your instincts! Then we’ll end up having to solve the case ourselves in our spare time.”

Camille glared at him, and then realised he was in fact teasing her. “That may _occasionally_ happen,” she admitted.

“You are really willing to move half way around the world?” Richard asked again, not quite able to believe his luck. He was sure it was going to take them hours and a lot of arguing to figure out their future.

“Yes,” Camille said firmly. “Yes I am sure.” After a short pause she added, “I even promise not to remind you of the fact I did so very often.”

“You do this and you can be as demanding as you like,” Richard said, even though he knew that would likely only be true for the first couple of weeks before they fell back into the usual routine of bickering. He leaned across and kissed her, Camille responded eagerly by practically crawling into his lap. When she shifted the car horn ended up sounding, the noise causing both of them to rapidly move apart.

“Probably not the best location for that sort of activity,” Richard said – glancing around in case any passing people had spotted them making out in the car like teenagers. They appeared to be blessedly alone.

As Camille settled back in and did up her seat belt, Richard suspected the drive back was going to feel very long indeed…But then again, it did seem like they had a whole lot more time to enjoy each other’s company.


End file.
